The Case of the Stackhouse Demon
by Dead Pan Contest
Summary: Eric Northman is angry and frustrated. He needs a challenge for his formidable detective skills. Will the arrival of a beautiful blonde client bring him satisfaction? The tale is narrated by his faithful companion Dr. Compton.


**The Dead Pan Contest**

**The Case of the Stackhouse Demon**

**Inspired by "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

**Summary: Dead Pan Contest entry. **Eric Northman is angry and frustrated**.** He needs a challenge for his formidable detective skills. Will the arrival of a beautiful blonde client bring him satisfaction? The tale is narrated by his faithful companion Dr. Compton.

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**Cast of Characters: **

**Eric Northman: a private detective**

**Dr. William Compton: his faithful companion and chronicler**

**Miss Suki Stackhouse: a beautiful heiress**

**Miss Tara Thornton: her companion and best friend**

**Samuel Merlotte: a local farmer**

**Robert Burnham, Northman's valet**

**(Disclaimer: all of the above characters are the creation and property of Charlaine Harris)**

**Lord Blackwood: an aristocrat**

**(Disclaimer: this character was created for the film "Sherlock Holmes" 2009, and is the property of Warner Bros/Guy Richie)**

**Original characters:**

**Major Stackhouse: Suki's father**

**Jaiveer Singh: his manservant**

**Carly, a maid of all work**

**With Dr. (later to be Sir) Arthur Conan Doyle as himself**

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**London, September 1890**

It was a cool evening and, unusually for the time of year, a fire was made up in the grate. Outside the windows a light mist swirled, obscuring the view. I was sitting in my favourite armchair watching Eric Northman as he paced the drawing room of his apartment in Albany. It was the most fashionable address in London, and its spacious accommodation was ideal for two confirmed bachelors such as Northman and myself. My rooms were on the first floor, just above his, giving easy access when he required my attendance on him. I could not truly call him my friend, but I would venture to say that I knew him as well as any man could, and that I had earned his trust.

He was undoubtedly an impressive sight, well over six feet tall. His suits were handmade by his personal tailor and emphasised his well-proportioned frame.

He wore his blond hair at the shoulder length made fashionable by the romantic painters.

In my ten years as his companion, I had become so used to his many strange characteristics that I no longer remarked on them. It was only when some other person commented that I was reminded that he was not like other men. He had a complete aversion to sunlight, and indeed lived only at night, sleeping during the day. I had noticed as well that he never touched silver. I had once seen an accidental contact leave a deep burn on his skin. His hair, which was such a striking feature, actually grew during the day and had to be cut each evening.

At present my focus was not on his physical presence, striking as it was, but entirely on his mood. I could sense his growing frustration, and I knew with an awful certainty what the outcome would be if he did not find satisfaction. His blood lust would demand full rein.

He snatched a pile of letters from his desk. "Lost pets," he spat in disgust, "the finest detective in London, and I am expected to turn my intellect to the search for lost pets." He screwed up the letter and threw it onto the fire, an expression of total disgust on his face.

"What has happened to me, Compton? Where are the cases I used to attract, the ones that challenged my intellect? You remember how I solved the mystery of the Exmoor Beast, and my battle of wits with the delightful Princess Ivanovitch, that beautiful but deadly jewel thief?"

I knew what was coming next. "Conan Doyle is the one to blame. He stole my identity, and I could only stand by helplessly and watch. Now people seek out a fictional character for their problems and leave me to stew in this tedium." He rang the bell for his valet. "Burnham, I shall require a cab, for midnight," he ordered imperiously.

"As you wish, Master, and where shall I say it is going?"

_Please not Whitechapel_, I prayed inwardly. Since the unfortunate events of 1888, I hoped we could avoid that godforsaken district of the city. I could only feel relief that some deranged person had come forward to claim responsibility for the horrible murders. He had called himself Jack the Ripper, and his taunting letters to the Police had served to distract them from the clues to the real culprit. True, Northman had covered his tracks well, mutilating the bodies with the skill of a surgeon to throw the authorities off the scent. He now managed to feed without killing his victim, and had only to use his hypnotic powers to ensure they remembered nothing.

"Southwark I think," he answered finally. "It is some time since we have been south of the Thames; it should yield me some fresh blood."

The sound of the doorbell came as a shock to both of us at that late hour. His valet Burnham knocked politely at the drawing room door. "There is a lady to see you, sir. Shall I show her in?" Unlike most of Northman's evening visitors, in this case, the characterisation was an accurate one, and the woman who entered was clearly a lady of quality. I judged her to be perhaps twenty years of age. She was of average height, with a fashionably slim waist. A small bustle drew attention to her full hips, and although her neckline was worn modestly high, it could not detract from her fine bosom. Her hair was golden and arranged in an elaborate coiffure, from which a few tendrils had escaped and trailed down her fine white neck. Her features were not perfect—one could not call her truly beautiful—but she had a lively charm that was most attractive. Northman was showing just a little fang, causing me to give him a pointed glance.

He managed to compose himself, and in the blink of an eye was standing in front of her. He took her hand and kissed it with a low bow. "To what do we owe the pleasure Miss…?"

"Stackhouse, Suki Stackhouse."

"Suki Stackhouse," he repeated, rolling the words around like an incantation. "An unusual name."

"Yes, it was a nickname my Ayah had for me in India when I was a child, as she could not pronounce my real name, and somehow it has stuck."

"Delightful. So you have taken the late afternoon train to London from," he considered for a moment, "Surrey, and you have a letter which is causing you no little concern."

She stared at him, her mouth open just a little. I rolled my eyes. I was used to Northman's parlour tricks, but they never failed to impress the innocent.

"You are wearing a pale dress, but it has retained its colour. If you had been long in town it would be stained with soot and grime around the hem. There is a small residue of soil on your shoe; the brown clay is typical of the region around Guildford. It is quite distinctive, you know. You are carrying a small bag that you are clutching anxiously. It must contain something of importance, and a letter is the only item that would fit."

"You are quite correct," she said enthusiastically. "I had heard that you were a fine detective. I only hope that you can help me; I do not know where else to turn."

"May I offer you some refreshment?"

"Perhaps a small sherry."

I smiled. She was so different from his normal evening visitors. Their preferred drink was gin, that foul curse of the streets of London. The smile was wiped off my face as he ordered me down to the kitchen. He could just as easily have rung the bell and summoned Burnham to undertake the errand, but I knew he wanted me out of the way.

As I anticipated, when I returned Northman was sitting on his chaise longue with Miss Stackhouse at his side. He was telling her the tale of how he had outwitted and seduced the beautiful Russian jewel thief, the Princess Ivanovitch. She was blushing at the risqué tale, but she could not help but laugh, a sound that was both beautiful and musical. I felt a painful stab of jealousy. Northman had the ability to mesmerise women with his charm, and she was no exception.

"I am sure I shall find time to tell you more of my stories, but now that Dr. Compton has rejoined us, please tell us what brings you here."

She took a deep breath. "It is my father, Major Stackhouse. We live just outside of Guildford, in the county of Surrey, as you say. Until a few months ago, he was in the best of health in both body and mind. However, recently he has been suffering from delusions. His nights are racked by nightmares, and the whole house is woken by his terrible cries. He believes he is possessed by a demon." She paused for a moment, clearly upset by the tale she was recounting to us.

"It is terrible to see the change in him. He has lost all appetite and no longer takes care of his appearance. He is so haggard now that it scares me to look at him. I have been so concerned that I decided to intercept his post and found this letter." She drew it out of her small purse. It was written in block letters to give no clue to the handwriting. There was only a single line:

"_**A curse is upon you, which no man can lift. Your evil deed will take human form**__**."**_

Northman examined the letter for clues but could find nothing. "This is very suggestive, Compton. Sometimes what one cannot find is more significant than what one can." He turned back to Miss Stackhouse.

"Please would you tell us more about your family?"

"I live alone with my father. My only companion is my maid Tara. She has been with me since I was fourteen and is really my best friend. My mother died in childbirth when I was seven, and I have no brothers or sisters."

"Your father is wealthy?"

"I believe so. He lived in India for many years, working for the Maharajah of Jaipur. He has always led me to believe that he built up a good fortune in that time."

"And do you have suitors?" Northman continued.

She looked shocked. "What bearing can that possibly have on this situation?"

"It has a great deal to do with the matter. You are, if you will excuse me saying, very beautiful. You are young, unmarried, and likely to inherit a large fortune. You are an exceptionally good match. There is no telling what a young man might do when faced with such temptation."

She blushed a delicate shade of pink. She really was the most adorable creature.

"There is my good friend Samuel Merlotte. We have been friends since childhood. His father worked as the steward on our estate, but Samuel has done very well for himself since his father's death. He has his own farm now, and is seeking to expand. I think he may have feelings for me, but my father disapproves, as he is the son of a servant."

"Our near neighbour, Lord Blackwood, has also been paying me some attention recently, although I find I cannot warm to him. He is from an old and distinguished family, although I have heard that their fortune is much diminished nowadays."

"I do wonder, though, if my father will ever approve of a suitor for me. He rejected all the young men who courted me when I was a debutante. I am already one and twenty, and fear I shall die an old maid."

I smiled. "I think that is very unlikely," I said, looking at Northman and expecting him to concur, but his expression was serious.

"This problem interests me, and that is rare nowadays. Will you permit that we return to Guildford with you to investigate further?"

"That would be wonderful; I will telegraph my father to alert him. Can we leave in the morning?"

"Alas, I cannot travel until tomorrow evening. Compton, pass me the ABC." I picked up the railway timetable, and we established that there was a suitable train at eight o'clock. We arranged to meet her at Waterloo Railway Station.

It was left to me to bring up the sensitive subject of sleeping arrangements. It should have been easy, after many years as his companion, to sound completely plausible, but at the back of my mind was always the fear that I would be challenged. "Miss Stackhouse, you need to be aware that Mr. Northman has very particular requirements as a guest. He must have a room that is completely impervious to light, or it will be impossible for him to sleep. Do you think this can be accommodated?"

Happily, she did not seem to find this a strange request. "Of course that is possible, Dr. Compton. Our guest bedrooms all have wooden shutters and heavy curtains. I will ensure that our housekeeper is given instructions as to your exact requirements."

"Where are you staying in Town?" Northman asked her. She named a small, private hotel nearby. "I shall walk you home," he said firmly. "A lady such as yourself is not safe at this hour. There are creatures of the night who stalk the streets."

I interrupted quickly before he could rise to take her hand. "Northman, perhaps I should escort Miss Stackhouse." I glanced pointedly at the clock. There was a scant hour before dawn. He was forced to agree, although I could see that it pained him.

I retrieved my coat and we walked out onto the deserted streets. She slipped her arm through mine as we walked. "Mr. Northman is so fascinating," she began, "is he really as clever as everyone says he is?" I was forced to acknowledge the truth of it. "I don't understand though how he can sleep in London if he is sensitive to light. The city is so bright compared to the country."

I smiled, as if her question was of no great importance. "He has heavy curtains in his bedroom which provide sufficient protection for him." This was not actually the truth. He had particularly selected a ground floor set of rooms in Albany because they gave access to a wine cellar, which he had converted to a daytime resting place.

"How long have you known him?" she continued.

"We first met about ten years ago. I had recently graduated from Cambridge University and was undertaking my medical training." I was not going to expand on the detail of the circumstances.

"It is as exciting as meeting Sherlock Holmes in the flesh," she said gaily.

I had to smile at her enthusiasm. "Yes, Dr. Conan Doyle did borrow certain aspects of Northman's character for his hero."

"Really, you must tell me more."

"I couldn't possibly do that; neither of them would forgive me." And I wouldn't forgive myself, I thought. She was so innocent; I would not be the one to make her aware of the evil that lurked in the world.

Northman's first words, when I met him the following evening to prepare for our journey, were of Miss Stackhouse. "She is very lovely, is she not? There is something," he paused for a moment's consideration, "intoxicating about her." I had to agree. It was unusual for him to show so much interest in a woman. He normally only required their services to meet his basest needs.

Miss Stackhouse was waiting for us on the platform when we reached Waterloo Station, and together we found an empty first class carriage. I sat myself next to Northman, with Miss Stackhouse sitting opposite us.

I must have dozed off, as I found myself reliving another journey I had made ten years earlier. I had gone to Edinburgh to undertake a course in anatomy. The University had the finest medical school in the world, and I believed the investment would help my career. In a way it did, but not as I had imagined.

I struck up a friendship with another student, Arthur Doyle. Like me, he came from a background of limited means, and we were drawn together by our relative poverty. We would often work late, and after the other students had left, we would draw the dissected cadavers and discuss the features of interest. It was on one such evening that we were drawn down to the cellar by a strange and awful sound.

The sight that greeted us was truly horrible. A giant of a creature stood before us. He was well over six feet tall and naked from the waist up. His long blond hair was caked in blood, and his eyes blazed with an unearthly blue fire. He was feeding on the blood of one of the corpses freshly brought in for the next morning's lecture. I turned to run, but Doyle's hand on my arm stopped me.

"Northman," he said, "is that you?" I stared in amazement that he would be acquainted with such a creature. He, or it—I really could not tell—stepped back. His appearance had lost some of its monstrous quality and became more human. "Clean yourself up, man," said Doyle. "What are you doing feasting on the blood of the dead?"

The creature spoke. His English was good, but with just a hint of an accent, possibly German or Scandinavian, I thought. "This city is too small for me. There is not enough fresh blood. At times, I find myself desperate enough to seek out the newly dead. Now perhaps you will tell me who you are and how you know of me?"

"I have contacts in the Edinburgh Police," my friend explained. "They speak very highly of the detective skills of a tall, blond stranger who keeps only the hours of darkness. I have followed your career with some interest, and have also been investigating the peculiarities of your lifestyle. I knew that you only worked at night, and it was said that you were never seen to consume food or drink. I had my suspicions as to your true nature, and now they have been confirmed."

"So what do you intend to do with this knowledge?" the creature asked.

"Nothing," replied Doyle, "I suggest that you should leave Edinburgh; as you say, it is too small to hide a secret such as yours. I would suggest that London would provide you with greater anonymity. You should take a companion, someone who could provide cover for you. Perhaps my friend Compton would be suitable. You could set him up in his own medical practice, and in return he could assist you with your cases and help you to manage your needs."

"So what do you get out of this?"

Doyle thought for some time. "I am not sure as yet, but there will be some benefit in due course."

It was several years later when we found out what Doyle's reward was. Northman's fury was terrible as he read _A Study in Scarlet_ and recognised his own character laid out for all to see. Personally, I felt this was largely to blame for his loss of control in the Whitechapel murders.

For myself, I thought that Doyle had captured the essence of Northman's character very well in his fictional creation, Sherlock Holmes. He had given him arrogance and complete certainty of his own infallibility. Of course, some details had been changed to protect the guilty. The blood lust had become cocaine addiction. Holmes had no interest in women, either. That aspect of Northman's behaviour would certainly have been too shocking for a respectable audience. I was offended that Doyle made Holmes's companion Dr. Watson such a bumbling idiot; it seemed a mean reward for the friendship I had shown him.

I was brought back to consciousness by a heavy tap on my leg. "Wake up, Compton. We will be arriving at our destination shortly." While I had been dozing, Northman had changed seats and was now sitting next to Miss Stackhouse. There was no mistaking the admiration in her gaze as he regaled her with stories of his exploits. He had taken her small hand in his big one and was softly tracing circles on her palm.

As the train came to a halt, he put his hands around her waist to lift her down onto the platform. It was so tiny that he could almost encircle her in his grasp. He brushed her cheek with his lips. It was the softest of touches but enough to set off another delightful blush on her face.

A small barouche had been sent to collect us from the station. After assuring himself that Miss Stackhouse was comfortable, Northman took the seat beside her, letting his hand lightly brush against hers. I could almost feel the electricity running between them. I pondered on what I should do. She was so lovely and so innocent. I could not tell her the truth, but equally I could not let her lose her heart to such a monster.

As we travelled, Northman sketched out his plan of campaign. "You say your father is almost himself during the day, but becomes ill in the evening?" he asked Miss Stackhouse. She nodded her acknowledgement. "Compton, I need you to observe him carefully during the day. Note his habits and anything out of the ordinary. I also need you to observe the servants and investigate their backgrounds."

He paused and turned his attention to Miss Stackhouse. "When can we meet your suitors?"

"We can visit Samuel's farm at any time. Any friend of mine is always welcome. Lord Blackwood normally dines with us once or twice a week, so you will meet him soon."

"Good that will be sufficient to start with. Compton, we will discuss progress tomorrow evening."

The Stackhouse estate was a large one. It was only a few nights short of the full moon, so the house was clearly illuminated in the moonlight as we approached along a fine driveway lined with elm trees. A man was waiting in the entrance porch as we drew up. It was obvious that he had once been very handsome, but he looked haggard, and his clothes, though well made, were ill fitting. Standing behind him was a manservant, whose attire and dusky skin marked him out as an Indian. "Good evening Jai," Miss Stackhouse said formally, "I have brought some guests whom I hope will put an end to our troubles." She held out her small reticule to him and indicated he should take our bags.

"I hope so too Miss, most sincerely." He nodded politely and took our small travel bags upstairs.

I accepted the offer of a small whisky in the library, but soon took to my bed given the lateness of the hour. I knew that Northman would remain awake until dawn, pacing and considering the case, but my plan was to spend as many of the daylight hours with Miss Stackhouse as I could. In that, at least, I had the advantage over him.

Barely forty-five minutes had passed when the most awful screaming came from the Major's room. I hastened down the corridor, meeting Northman on the way. We entered to find Singh leaning over the bed trying to hold the Major down. His master was writhing in agony. "No, no, do not come for me, I will do anything, just leave me alone," he cried.

"Is this normal?" Northman asked the Indian. "Yes sir. It will last for up to an hour, and then he will calm himself. I sleep in his dressing room so that I can assist him when he is seized by the delusion. I usually hold him to prevent him injuring himself." The servant attempted to calm his Master further, to no avail.

"This is very interesting," commented Northman, but he expanded no further on the point. "There is no more to be done tonight. Compton, you should retire; you have much to accomplish tomorrow."

I awoke late the next day, but found that breakfast was still being served in the dining room. Unfortunately, Miss Stackhouse was nowhere to be seen. I spent the morning talking to the Major and interviewing the servants.

After lunch, I took the opportunity of an improvement in the weather to ride over to Samuel Merlotte's farm. He was out in his fields supervising his workers at the harvest, but broke off from his labours when he saw my approach. "You're the Major's guest, I suppose," he said rather stiffly.

"Yes," I acknowledged. "You must be aware that the Major has been unwell recently, and Miss Stackhouse has asked for a professional opinion." I noticed that his expression softened at the mention of her name.

"She is a good daughter to him and a fine woman." He was thoughtful for a moment. "So what do you want from me?"

"Oh nothing, I was just exploring the area. It appears to be a fine farm you have here."

He was clearly very proud of it, as he regaled me with details of the acreage and yields. He seemed an ambitious man, but I could not discern any evil in him. Personally, I thought him too serious to be a suitable husband for Miss Stackhouse, but it seemed unlikely that he would have the chance to pursue her, if her father objected to him.

When Northman rose at dusk I had much to report to him. "The Major is most definitely concealing something. He was most garrulous on the subject of his time in India, but could not give a good account of why he left the country when he did."

"Did you detect any sign of mental impairment?"

"None at all, he was most lucid. I did think his manservant appeared a little shifty, though."

"Compton, you believe that all other races are unreliable in one way or another particularly the darker ones. I find the English prejudice on this subject most regrettable. So what about Miss Stackhouse? I believe it was your intention to try to get to know her better."

My face must have shown some disappointment as a look of satisfaction crossed his. I had to admit that I had not seen her.

"That must be remedied at once," he stated firmly and with that we set off in the direction of her room.

She was sitting at her dressing table when we entered. Another young woman, who I presumed to be Tara, her maid, was dressing her hair. They both stood up as we entered.

"Miss Stackhouse," Northman said with a small bow, "and this must be Miss Thornton. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you sir, Suki has been telling me about you." Her voice had the gentle lilt of the West Country I thought. "Oh, and you as well, Dr. Compton," she added as an afterthought.

"I see you have some connection with the West Indies, Barbados if I am not mistaken," Northman stated with his usual confidence. She looked surprised.

"Why yes sir, I was born and grew up there. My mother worked as a ladies' maid to the Lascelles family. My father worked on one of their plantations. He was a free man. I am no slave's daughter," she added fiercely.

That explained her olive complexion and curly black hair. I thought her an attractive young woman despite the stain of miscegenation.

"My mother died when I was thirteen and I was sent back to England to earn my living. I have worked for Suki ever since."

"Please don't say that Tara," Suki interjected. "You are my friend; you know that."

"You gentlemen should be dressing for dinner. Lord Blackwood is our guest this evening." Northman looked pleased at this information.

After dressing we repaired to the library to await the rest of the party. I poured two whisky and sodas and placed them on a small table by our chairs. Northman had mastered the art of nursing a drink so well that no one ever seemed to notice that he did not actually consume it. It had occurred to me to wonder how he was going to sustain himself for three or four days out of London. I knew he could go for at least two days without feeding, but after that, who knows what he would do.

"What did you find out about the servants?" he asked.

"The Major keeps a very small household," I replied. "His housekeeper appears to have been with the family since birth and manages both the house and the kitchen. His manservant you know of. The only other person who lives in is a maid of all work. Carly, I believe her name is. Her family are local. Several of her sisters work for Lord Blackwood, but as the youngest there was no place for her so she came here."

Northman looked very interested. "That is suggestive." I had no idea why but said nothing.

The housekeeper showed Lord Blackwood into the library a few minutes later. We exchanged the normal pleasantries. I knew he was said to harbour political ambitions, so I was able to make small talk on the most recent parliamentary scandals. Northman was silent but to my practised eye clearly observing the new guest in some detail.

I was seated next to Lord Blackwood at dinner. Northman sat opposite next to Miss Stackhouse with her father at the head of the table. It was not an ideal situation, as Northman was clearly torn between observing Lord Blackwood and the Major and enjoying the charms of his lovely companion. Of course, with his acute hearing he could pick up every conversation in the room.

I continued on the topic of politics with Lord Blackwood. He had strong opinions, which I suspected would not be universally popular, although I had some sympathy with them. He did not believe that ordinary people could be trusted with the destiny of a great empire, and held strongly to the view that the running of the country should be left only to the upper classes.

I had been instructed to probe him on the subject of his business interests but this was not a topic he warmed to. It appeared that several of his recent ventures had lost considerable sums of money. I was struck by his insistence that all his business failures were the fault of someone other than him: moneylenders, foreign governments, and unreliable employees. The list was long, but naturally did not include himself. It was clear that, despite appearances, his family fortune was no longer as great as it had once been.

I noticed through the meal that Northman was watching very carefully everything that Major Stackhouse ate and drank. I commented on this later when we were alone in the library.

"Compton," he began, with I thought an unnecessary degree of impatience, "as I see it, there are three alternatives in this mystery. Firstly that the Major is mentally ill; secondly that there really is a demon or a person masquerading as one; and thirdly that some delusion is being induced by the administration of drugs through his food or drink. It is likely that there will be another episode tonight. We must wait in the corridor outside the Major's room and observe what transpires."

When the Major and his manservant retired, we secured the windows in his room and locked the door, retaining the key to ensure that no one else could gain access.

The events followed the pattern of the following night: an awful screaming followed by a scuffle as Singh attempted to calm his master. We unlocked the door and rushed in to help. There was no sign of anyone else in the room, and the windows remained firmly closed.

Northman looked around. His eyes settled on a tall glass next to the bed. The Indian followed his gaze. "Ah yes, the master likes to have a glass of cocoa to help him sleep."

"This could be the solution to our problem. Please take the dregs of that drink and secure them in a jar. We will take them to London on our return. Now Compton, you can do no more tonight. Let us retire."

I found, however, that I could not sleep as I went over the evening's events in my mind, trying to follow Northman's train of thought. It was a warm evening, and I went to stand by the window to soak up the light breeze. Out in the moonlight I saw the pale figure of a woman, dressed in a translucent white muslin gown. She moved like an automaton and I realised she must be sleepwalking. From nowhere, Northman appeared at her side; he laid a hand on her arm and leant down to whisper something to her. She must have woken as I saw her start. He took her in his arms and held her for some minutes, gently stroking her hair.

Dropping his arm around her waist, he guided her to a bench, just near enough to my open window that I could catch an occasional word on the night breeze. I stepped back into the shadows. I knew it was not the act of a gentleman to eavesdrop, but I could not control my fascination.

At first I could hear only snatches of their conversation. It appeared that she had been dreaming. She made some reference to 'the portal,' which I did not understand, and to a beautiful woman who appeared to her in her dream.

As I watched he lowered his head towards hers. I expected her to push him away, but to my surprise, she yielded and allowed him to kiss her. She wound her hands into his long hair, pulling him closer. Eventually he pulled away, and turned her so she was sitting with her back leaning against his broad chest. His hands rested on her stomach. She leant her head back against his shoulder, the contentment on her face clear to see in the moonlight. He moved his hands, stroking her gently under her flimsy gown. She did not protest, but appeared to welcome his touch. I thought I could hear her moan, but it may have been the sound of the breeze in the trees. I could watch no longer and moved as quietly as I could to my bed.

The next day was warm, and with no instructions to follow, I took a stroll in the gardens. I could hear Miss Stackhouse and Miss Thornton laughing together and was about to approach them when the subject of their conversation brought me to a halt.

"Did you really let him kiss you?" Tara asked her.

"Do you think it was very sinful of me?"

"No of course not, he is a very handsome man after all. What was it like?"

"Oh Tara, I cannot find words to explain how wonderful it was. I think perhaps the moonlight made me wanton, but I craved his touch. I let him be familiar with me and do you know, I do not regret it, even though I probably should."

"Familiar, what do you mean?" Tara giggled like a schoolgirl.

"I let him touch me. He stroked my legs and…" She paused for a moment, then continued, "I cannot say where else; it is too embarrassing. Do you remember that book we found hidden in father's library?"

"The one he brought back from India, with the pictures of the men and women being intimate together?"

"Yes, well it was just like that."

"Please tell me you did not let him seduce you."

"He held back, Tara, but I am not sure I would have stopped him."

"He is a strange sort of a man, though. His skin is so cool, and even though I sat close to him, I could not feel his heart beat."

"Do you not find it unusual that he lives only at night?" Tara asked.

"That is easily explained. He told me that he has a rare medical condition, which means that even a few minutes in the sun will cause terrible burns to his skin. More than thirty minutes and the burns would be so serious that he would probably die. He has to avoid daylight altogether. In his profession it should not be too much of a burden; after all, evil often favours the night." They both laughed.

"Would you not be happier with a more ordinary type of man?" Tara pressed her friend.

"I met plenty of those during my season in London. I must have danced with hundreds of men, but not one of them made the impression on me that he does. When he holds me in his arms, I feel such pleasure as I have never felt in my whole life," Suki replied, her voice full of passion.

"I do believe you are falling in love with him!" Tara exclaimed.

"Perhaps I am a little. I am sure he could not love me, though. He is so clever, and has known so many beautiful women. They say he is a ladies' man and a confirmed bachelor." She sounded a little sad.

"I would not be so sure; I have seen the way he looks at you. He most certainly has some regard for you."

"I would be very happy if he had. Anyway, he and Dr. Compton return to London this evening, so it will be a few days before we see them again."

I returned to the house pondering over what I had heard. I wondered if I should intervene and give some warning to Miss Stackhouse, but I would not be able to do so without revealing Northman's terrible secret. I tried to reassure myself that the case would probably be solved before the attraction between them could develop into anything more serious.

Northman was twitching with impatience as our train pulled into Waterloo Station later that evening. I remembered that it was several days since he had last fed. He disappeared in the direction of the railway arches, which were frequented by the lowest sort of streetwalker.

It was two days before I saw him again. He was in remarkably good health and had lost his normal pallor. I found out later of the tales circulating amongst the street whores: tales of a monster stalking them and leaving them with terrible injuries. Fortunately, this time, none of them died. Naturally, none of them could give an accurate account of their ordeal, and the London Police had very little interest in their experiences, considering their kind as entirely expendable. For myself, I considered this as another fortunate escape.

He had a look of triumph as I crossed the corridor to his rooms that evening. "I was correct in my deduction. A powerful hallucinogenic was administered to the Major's late night cocoa. It was undoubtedly this substance that triggered his delusions. Now we must return to Surrey to apprehend the culprit. I am sure I know who the guilty party is, but we must have proof before we can act."

Our first action on arriving at the Stackhouse estate was to seek out the Major. "You have not been completely frank with us sir." Northman raised himself to his full height the effect being very intimidating, as he well knew. "I need to know the circumstances of your departure from India," he continued.

The Major sighed. "If I must, but it does me no credit. As you know I was in the employ of the Maharajah of Jaipur. He is fabulously wealthy, and I was well rewarded for my work. However, I was greedy. I justified it by my need to have a good dowry for my Suki, but truthfully, it was my own avarice. I stole from him, not large amounts by his standards, but enough to build up my own fortune. Inevitably, one day, he found out. I was lucky that he did not order my immediate execution and that, in recognition of my many years of faithful service, he spared my life. However, the price of my survival was to be the extinction of my family line. He warned me that I would never have a son, and that my Suki would never have children. Further, if I were to allow her to marry any man, my evil deeds would take human form and hunt me down."

"The threatening letters began arriving immediately after my Suki's twenty-first birthday. I had previously been reluctant to allow her to marry, but I have now determined that she should not have to suffer because of my wrongdoing. Several gentlemen of my acquaintance have shown an interest in her, but I am determined that it will be her choice. I would not force her into an unhappy marriage. My main concern is to protect her from fortune hunters. She will not come into her inheritance until she is thirty-five, unless I should die before then."

"Does anyone else know of the circumstances of your departure from India?"

"I do not think so. I told people it was on account of my wife's death. She died in childbirth, you know. We would have had a son, and I believe their deaths to be the first manifestation of the curse."

"Were there any of your countrymen also at the court?"

"No," he paused for a moment to think. "Well, there were two young cavalry officers who were training with the Maharajah's horsemen, but they were only eighteen, and I had little contact with them. I do not even remember their names, only that they were both very well connected sons of the aristocracy."

"Do you believe that the Major is really cursed?" I asked when he had left the room.

Northman was thoughtful. "The curse is most certainly a strange one, and it is possible that it may indeed apply. However, I am quite certain that the tale of the demon is a complete fiction."

"How can you be so sure?"

"As I have drummed into you more times than I care to remember Compton, the first rule of detection is 'cui bono' – who benefits? It is clear that the objective in this case is to drive the Major to lunacy or suicide, so that Suki can come into her inheritance before her thirty-fifth birthday."

"You are surely not suggesting that she did this to her own father?"

Northman gave an exaggerated sigh. "Of course not, but if she were to marry, is it not true that under your laws, her property would belong solely to her husband?"

"So you mean someone wants to marry her and steal her fortune?"

"It is the most basic of all desires. I believe there is only one person capable of such a plan. We know he is short of money, so he has motive. As for means, he has planted a relative of his own servants in this house. Who knows what tale he spun for her, but I am certain that if we question this girl Carly, we will solve the mystery."

The maid was woken from her bed in the servants' quarters and brought into the room. A simple country girl, she was shaking with fright. Northman did nothing to calm her. "What did he say would be the effect of the potion?" he demanded, his voice brutal. I looked at him mystified, but her look was of terror. She stammered out her answer barely pausing for breath.

"I didn't mean any harm sir, honest I didn't. Lord Blackwood, he said that the Major was refusing to agree to his marriage to Miss Stackhouse, and that she loved him, and that if I gave him the truth serum it would change the master's mind."

There were times when I had to agree with Lord Blackwood as to the stupidity of the lower orders. Northman, however, responded more kindly. "You are sure that was all he said; he did not express an intention to harm the Major."

"Certainly not sir, I would never do anything to hurt the Major. He is a very good employer and kind to all his staff."

"Very well, you may go."

"So are you going to accuse Lord Blackwood?"

"I think not. He is a powerful man with many connections at the highest level. I do not think it would be to our advantage to make an enemy of him. Besides, I have a much better idea for thwarting his plan." I looked at him expectantly, but he said no more.

I retired for the night. To my surprise, Northman accompanied me upstairs and went to his own room. A few minutes later the reason became clear. There was a light knock on his door and a familiar voice: "Mr. Northman."

"Please, my dear, you must call me Eric."

"Eric, I need to speak with you."

"Won't you come in?"

I tried to force myself into the arms of sleep, ignoring whatever was going on in the room next to mine. I was already ashamed of myself for listening to conversations that were no business of mine. I was not going to repeat this a third time. Sleep would not come, and it was probably an hour later when I heard his door open again and the sound of light footsteps disappearing down the corridor. Picking up my dressing gown I went to his room.

Northman was lying on the bed, a look of satisfaction on his face. He was at least fully clothed which gave me some relief. My concerns were too strong to be contained by politeness. "She loves you, you know, and you will break her heart. I tell you, I will not stand for it."

He just laughed. "I am aware that she cares for me; that was apparent from the first time we kissed. What you may be surprised to know is that I have feelings for her, too. I have no intention of breaking her heart."

"Northman, I have known you for ten years, and in that time, you have never been interested in a woman except to use her to satisfy your basest desires. How can you expect me to believe that you truly care for this one?"

"I have lived for nine hundred years. I think you will agree that is long enough to be sure of my own feelings. I have asked her to marry me, and she has agreed."

I must have stared at him for a full minute, rendered speechless with shock. "Marry you, but how can she?"

"In the normal way, I believe. She has accepted my explanation of my condition, so she knows I can only move about at night, but she can adapt. I am sure she will grow to love the moon and stars as I do."

"And have you told her you can never give her children?" He had the grace to look a little shamefaced at that. "You are not just doing this to thwart Lord Blackwood?" I continued.

"It does increase my pleasure in the turn of events. That man is evil through and through. He should never be allowed near any woman, and certainly not my Suki. But no, that is not the reason. I cannot tell you how, but I know that it is our destiny to be together."

"So when are you going to tell her the truth about yourself?"

"Not yet. I believe that every bride should have a surprise on her wedding night, do you not?"

Northman was determined to seek the Major's permission to take Suki's hand the following night. The weather continued unseasonably warm for late September, so Suki and Tara had planned a picnic with Samuel Merlotte, to celebrate the end of the harvest. I felt a little uncomfortable accompanying them, knowing what the main subject of discussion would be. As I anticipated, Miss Stackhouse wasted no time in sharing her news with her companions.

Merlotte was clearly not pleased by the turn of events: "You hardly know the man, Miss Suki, how can you be sure he is not a fortune seeker?" I was at least able to refute that charge, knowing that Northman had a substantial private fortune.

Tara also seemed a little unsure. "He does not seem like other men, are you not concerned that he may have some terrible secret?"

"Oh Tara," she replied, "you have been reading too many gothic novels. That is a foolish notion. He is just different, that is all."

"Besides, Dr. Compton has been his companion for ten years; he would know if there was anything dangerous about him." I busied myself with selecting a sandwich, unable to look her in the eye. She continued to address me, "how do you cope with his night-time hours? Is it not difficult in your profession?"

"I have to confess that most of my patients are society ladies who have very little wrong with them, save a lack of sufficient attention from their husbands. They fit in their medical appointments between their morning calls and their evening suppers, which suits me very well." The whole party found this most amusing.

It was nearing sunset as we returned to the Stackhouse manor. Suki could barely contain her excitement. "Father has to say yes, surely, Dr. Compton."

"I am sure he will," I responded. "I believe he had his first good night's sleep for many months last night; that alone should commend Northman to him. Besides, he told us that he would allow you to make your own choice of husband. If Northman truly is your choice, I am sure he will honour that."

"It is such a lovely evening; I shall go and sit in the walled garden. Please ask Eric to come to me when he has his answer." She strolled off, humming to herself, leaving Miss Thornton and I to carry the picnic things back into the house.

I repaired to the library to read the evening paper. I must have dozed off, as I was awoken by Suki, who was shaking me furiously. "Where is he, have you seen him?"

"Is he not with your father?"

"No, they have had their conversation, but he left half an hour ago. Where can he be?"

I could see the tears beginning to form and moved to console her, but she shook off my arm angrily. "We must find him. Surely you have acquired some detective skills in your years as his companion?"

I took a deep breath. "His first action is always to examine the scene of the crime. Do you know where Northman went when he left your father?"

"If he was coming out to see me, he would have used the garden entrance."

We retraced his presumed steps. The house was quiet, but in a small room by the back door, Singh was cleaning some boots. "Jai, have you seen Mr. Northman?"

"Why yes, Miss, he passed this way some thirty minutes ago. I noticed him as he was singing to himself and sounding most cheerful."

"Have you noticed anyone else pass by?"

"Carly was in the scullery, cleaning out the bottles I would guess, from the noise she was making." We turned as one towards the room, but it was silent now.

Suki turned back to the Indian. "Please Jai, go to her room and get her." He was away no more than five minutes, returning out of breath, "I am sorry Miss, but she has gone, there is no sign of her."

"So," I began, trying to imitate Northman's methods, "we know he left the house, and Carly the maid has also disappeared. We know she has a connection with Lord Blackwood. That is suggestive. Let us look outside for signs of any vehicle."

As soon as we stepped out of the door, Singh exclaimed, "A carriage has been here! The Major is most particular to have the drive swept every evening, but look at these tracks."

"Jai, please prepare two horses and bring one of my father's dogs. Oh and we shall need two pistols. I assume you can shoot, Dr. Compton?"

I stared at her, astounded at the authority she commanded from her delicate frame. "Yes, of course." I stammered.

They both disappeared, and I was left alone with my thoughts. It did seem most likely that Northman had been taken. It was nearing ten o'clock. We had time enough to find him before dawn, provided he had not been spirited out of the county. I shuddered at the weight of the burden now placed on my shoulders. Not only did we have to find Northman, but also I had to ensure that no harm came to Miss Stackhouse in the process.

She returned in riding attire and carrying an item of white cloth. "I picked this shirt up from his room to give the hound a scent to follow. Is he always so untidy, Dr. Compton?" I had to acknowledge the truth of it.

"That will change when we are married," she said firmly.

I was beginning to wonder if Northman knew quite what a tigress he was taking on.

The carriage tracks led as far as an old cart road through the woods. The Major's hound had a good nose and was able to follow the trail, until the trees thinned to reveal a fine mansion ahead of us. I was not entirely surprised when Suki exclaimed, "Blackwood Hall, but what can Lord Blackwood have to do with this; what can he have against Eric?"

"He did have intentions towards you himself, remember."

"That is hardly a motive for kidnap. What can he be thinking?"

"We need to move carefully; he may have accomplices," I warned. We tethered our horses and put the hound on its lead, moving as quietly as we could.

The trail led not to the house itself, which appeared to be all in darkness, but to an old chapel in the grounds. As we approached, we could see the faint flicker of candlelight through the windows. "As soon as we open the door, we will give ourselves away. You take the right aisle and I will take the left."

Northman had definitely met his match I thought. She gave orders as confidently as he did.

The foul stench of burning flesh greeted us as soon as we entered the place. Illuminated in the candlelight was a cloaked and hooded figure. As I took in the scene, I realised that Northman was lying on the altar. He was obviously chained in silver; nothing else would have held him or burned his flesh.

"Just in time to see Northman's final demise." Lord Blackwood's voice echoed around the chapel. It was answered by a female voice "Harm him, and you will go straight to hell." A shot rang out hitting a silver candlestick, which crashed to the ground. "Run, you idiot," she shouted at me. Holding my pistol cocked and ready to fire, I raced towards the altar.

Blackwood had steadied himself and was once again holding what looked like a stake over Northman's heart. "That was only a warning shot, the next one is for you!" Suki's voice rang out brave and strong. Blackwood hesitated, and in that moment I was able to lunge for him and push him to the ground.

As I struggled with him, Suki freed the chains from Northman's body. He rose from his prone position and, pushing me to one side, gripped Lord Blackwood around the throat. He lifted him off the ground and forced him back against a pillar, all the while squeezing the breath from his lungs. Suki stepped forward, reaching up to touch his arm. "Please Eric, don't kill him. He's not worth it."

Northman hesitated for a moment and then relaxed his grip, letting Blackwood's body fall to the floor. "Leave him, we have to go," he growled. Suki reached for his hand, not even flinching at the wheals left by the silver chains.

Northman was still weak and needed the assistance of us both to leave the church and mount Suki's horse. She sat in front of him, seeming to prop up his large body with her small one. We made slow progress back to the Stackhouse manor. Northman was weakened by his ordeal, and I could tell it was a struggle for Suki to hold him upright against her; even so, she did not flinch. For such a little thing, she had a fierce determination. We managed to reach the Stackhouse manor before the first birdsong heralded the approach of dawn.

Northman stumbled into his chamber, and I assisted him into bed, closing the shutters and the curtains firmly until no trace of daylight could be seen. I lit an oil lamp to allow us to move around.

Miss Stackhouse and I sat on the edge of his bed. "Is she not brave, my Suki?" Northman asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

"She is most certainly a woman of character. I think you may find that you have taken on more than you anticipate," I said, smiling.

Suki pouted at that. "I do not believe it is polite to discuss a lady as if she were not even in the room with you."

"But you are a perfect darling," Northman reached out for her hand, "my perfect darling."

"She can be ruthless for those she cares about, you should beware of that." I cautioned.

"I still don't understand why Lord Blackwood would do such a terrible thing?" Suki said, looking a little embarrassed at the turn the conversation was taking.

"He needed your fortune," I explained. "He has political ambitions, and they cannot be realised without a good income. He has frittered away his family wealth on foolish business ventures. You were his best hope."

She looked at me with concern on her face. "Do you think we were foolish to let him live? What if he comes after us again?"

I thought she was right to be concerned, but tried to offer her some reassurance. "I think that is unlikely, now that there are witnesses to his evil nature. Besides, once you and Northman are married there will be nothing he can do."

"Yes, I think we should marry as soon as possible." Northman's voice was a little stronger. "Would that be agreeable to you, my dear? I do not want to rush you against your will." She nodded her acquiescence. "In that case, perhaps Compton would be so good as to go up to London and arrange for a special licence. Will you mind if it is a very small affair?"

"Of course not. I would like to have my Tara as maid of honour, and father must be there, of course. I hope you will stand up with Eric, Dr. Compton. But really, a wedding is just one day, and we shall have our whole lives together."

"I hope so," Northman said, taking her hand.

I felt it prudent to excuse myself at that point. As I left, she was cradling his head in her arms, stroking his hair. It was certainly not the outcome I had expected when they first met in London those few weeks ago. I could only hope that neither of them would regret the choice they had made.

**X****XX**

Authors Note: by Dr. William Compton

Mr. and Mrs. Northman moved to a fine town house in Eaton Square after their marriage. Northman no longer undertook investigations, and indeed they led a very quiet life. I dined with them from time to time and, as far as one could tell, their marriage was an extremely happy one, despite the strangeness of the match and the burden of childlessness.

The last time I saw them was perhaps seven years after their marriage. My old friend Conan Doyle was giving a reading from his stories. I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Northman present, although I knew that Mrs. Northman was a keen reader of mysteries.

Conan Doyle himself spoke with us all after the reading. He was in the company of his relative, the novelist Mr. Stoker, who seemed quite transfixed when introduced to Northman. His intense scrutiny of my friend was both strange and embarrassing. It left me with a feeling of deep unease.

My friends disappeared from London quite suddenly soon after that evening. I went to call one day, to find the house shut up and the servants gone. I made enquiries but there was no trace of them.

As I approach my own death, I feel the need to leave this story for posterity. Most of the persons mentioned have already passed on and cannot be harmed by the publication of this tale. The only person of whom I have no knowledge is Northman himself. I have often wondered if he has indeed met his final death. Perhaps he has, but it is equally possible that he is still living amongst you now.


End file.
